peach eating vagus nerve cultist of the house of tool ape


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In retaliation for their ill-treatment of her, the evil fairy cursed the king and queen's son to become whatever those who loved him wanted him to be.

The king thought that this was a blessing: his son would grow up to be a great warrior, just like him!

The queen knew better.

Their child was perfect. He never had any other choice. As a baby he never cried; as a young boy he was never willful or contrary (except: the king wanted a son who stood up for himself. The queen wanted one who would be thoughtful and clever. A contradiction).

When he was only their son things were easy. Not perfect, but easy.

But he grew up, as children do, and they couldn't keep him locked away forever. He wasn't a princess, after all! He had tutors and playmates and met the king's court, and it's so easy to love a little prince.

The curse flowered within him, countless grasping tugging his soul back and forth, gnawing away at the little thing's never-formed sense of self like children squabbling over a new toy.

And so the prince learned that love is a selfish thing, and he learned to fear it.


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